


"Funny How Love Is"

by lyllytas



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Non-Graphic Violence, Oblivious, Pining, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Self-Harm, Solitary Confinement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-05-18 13:06:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19335109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyllytas/pseuds/lyllytas
Summary: The one in which Gabriel puts together the pieces, Crowley is a messy bitch developing PTSD, and Aziraphale is Very Very Angry.akaHeaven finds out the truth, all of the truths, and they're really not happy.





	1. In the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a good deal of this story in the days leading up to brain surgery in a frantic "what if it goes wrong." kind of daze, with the intent to post it all, and then I had brain surgery and quite literally forgot that I wrote this. So it's been chilling in my drafts for a few weeks. Thank you guys for being patient!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At some point in the future, Heaven puts the pieces together. Crowley's not sure what gave them away, but one moment the two of them were walking companionably down the street after lunch and the next moment, Gabriel was there. And he was startlingly close.

At some point in the future, Heaven puts the pieces together. Crowley's not sure what gave them away,1 but one moment the two of them were walking companionably down the street after lunch and the next moment, Gabriel was there. And he was startlingly close.

“Hello.” Gabriel says voice full of annoyance. “Still hanging around each other then?” He holds up a photograph of the two of them on a park bench, switching bodies. “Yikes." He pulls a face. "I know what you did, but I have NO idea how you managed to pull it off. I mean, It certainly didn't feel like a demon was in Heaven.”

"Oh, but that's just how Crowley always feels like." Aziraphale says without thinking.2

Gabriel turns to him. "He's a demon."

"Well yes." Aziraphale bounces nervously on his toes. "I never said anything because Crowley would have been upset- I mean his _image,_ but I always did think that Crowley rather felt like love."

Now, two sets of eyes were staring at him owlishly.3

"I mean it's rather pleasant," He stammerers, wondering what he has missed and how important it is. "but not really demonic. It's just Crowley," He shrugs. "I got used to it. Hardly even notice it any more unless someone points it out." He bounces his head, pulling on his waistcoat.

He looks between Gabriel and Crowley. "Oh, why are you both making those faces?"4 He was rather expecting Crowley to blow his lid at the accusation that he felt _nice_ but instead the demon is standing there like he'd been hit by a lorry and making fish faces.

"You have got to be kidding me." Gabriel says as he looks between the two of them. He turns and focuses his attention on Crowley.

Aziraphale cuts in between them. "I don't know what you think you are going to do." He says, "But leave Crowley out it. If Heaven is upset, it's me they should be upset with."5

"He did go up there and try to trick us." Gabriel huffs, attention distracted for the moment. "We do frown upon that sort of thing. Ya know, deception and all."6

"And just what are you planning to do about it?" Aziraphale frowns.

"This." Gabriel leans over quite quickly and takes a strong grip on Crowley's upper arm and then they are both gone, leaving Aziraphale standing alone on the street blinking in confusion.

<~>

In Heaven it was so bright.7 Crowley winces against the blinding light. His shades are gone, and getting here had been rather unpleasant; his head felt like someone had taken a fancy to pounding on it with a cricket bat.

And it was just the two of them here. No matter how far he looked in any direction they were alone in some remote corner of Heaven. There was weight on his wrists- golden shackles chaining him to the floor, and a glowing circle cage rather like a barrier around him, maybe a meter in every direction.8

"So what's all this then?" Crowley huffs, trying to regain control of himself. "Fancy a chat? You didn't have to go through all this trouble for little old me." He gestures. "I would have thought you'd want an audience."

"I'd rather not have a riot on our hands if people saw a demon in Heaven- even with those chains on." Gabriel pauses. "Those are special make by the way. Power binding. No shape shifting your way out of this, Crowley. And even if you did manage to get them off, well I'd be careful with that circle. Burns anything that's not supposed to be up here." He bares his teeth in a smile. "I'd watch out for your wings."

"Burning things,: he hisses, "well that's rather more like my lot." Crowley makes a face, baring his teeth in return.

"And love is ours." Gabriel walks around the circle, studying him. "Interesting. He said you always felt love. Really? Even back in the garden?"

"Well just a smidgen. Really." He shrugs his shoulder. I always knew he was rather stupid." He frowns, "I mean he's not; he's actually very clever, but he's also so bloody stupid." Crowley twists his neck, eyes following Gabriel as he walks.

"Is that why you did it? Stood in for him? What if we had chosen some other method than Hellfire?"

Crowley shrugs. "Well as " _good_ " as you lot claim to be, there's quite a bit of blood on your hands, if there was even a chance to spare him a moment of pain, of course I would have done it."

"And there in lies the trouble." He narrows his eyes. "To think, all this time he knew and yet didn't. And you? In love for 6,000 years and he's just now realizing it. But he's not going to be coming for you. You're out of his reach. Seems appropriate that if you two spent 6,000 years together lying to all of us, then it's time to spend some time apart. Several thousands of years maybe.” 9

"Wot, seriously?" Crowley's face drops as the words sink in.

"Oh, it will be worse on him really." Gabriel says. "You know, if we were Hell, we'd gradually shrink that circle until you burn out of existence. But we're the good guys. So you sit in time out where we don't have to deal with your rabble for a while, and if you behave, maybe I'll give you updates on him once in a while."

And then Gabriel is gone. Surely this can't be all they have in mind. Maybe they expect a show? Crowley does pull at the chains and shout in frustration, but no one is listening. Eventually he settles down on the cold tile floor and wraps his wings close around him. There's nothing else he can do. Just wait.

    1. It was doing the body swap in public like fucking morons, because they hadn't realized anyone could look through the “Earth Observation Files and **_see_**
    2. Aziraphale rather felt like he was missing something vital. Why else would Crowley look so shocked
    3. Gabriel had been his boss for so long after all, answering him was a habit.
looked 
    4. Both of them were indeed shocked by his proclamation, but also in disbelief
    5. Aziraphale had always been the sort to fall on his own sword, especially if it meant protecting Crowley
    6. Heaven is ruled by a "do as I say, and not a do as I do" mindset, and therefore only frowns on lies and deception when they are used against it.
    7. Heaven is Light, and so much Open Space, both a stark contrast from Hell.
    8. It too was golden
    9. This was rather benign, but Gabriel thought it was quite clever.



 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. Now I'm really going to stop and pack for my surgery (Who am I kidding, I don't leave till Wednesday, I'll probably squeeze more out. This is true procrastination, Who has time to worry about the drill bit they're going to be using on my head when this messy bitch has feelings and gets them everywhere?")
> 
> Sometimes I post updates on my tumblr https://thekidsareangry.tumblr.com/
> 
> edit: Surgery was June 27th. It went REALLY Really well, thank you guys so much for your well wishes!


	2. Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finds himself in Heaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. My god. In between the surgery and starting recovery, I completely forgot I posted this. So have the second chapter finally. Thank you guys for being patient. I did some editing of the first chapter, just to fix some minor problems and try and aim for one tense.

He thinks the silence might be the worst. The lights hurt, it's so bright, and they took his shades, so now he has nothing to hide behind, and the headache never quite goes away, but the silence is a vacuum and he's pretty sure he's going to loose his mind.

The fact that he doesn't need to eat, nor drink, nor is he limited by any human like functions means they leave him for months at a time with only his own thoughts as company. And sometimes he gets so irritated. It's so bright, and his wings just want to stretch out, and the floor is so hard, and it's so quiet. The kind of quiet that plays tricks with your mind.

Time passes. He's never sure how much. Not anymore. Nothing happens. Just him, in that circle, wasting time away. Different angels come sometimes. Always high ranking ones. And if they hurt him, well that was his lot in life. It at least passes the time. And their hurts, it was so different then Hell.

It was carefully crafted words that cut deep into your heart and fester. It was agony. And he sometimes when he closed his eyes, he was scared that he was forgetting. He would try and picture Aziraphale's voice in his head, his eyes, his softness. Anything to not be alone. And he spoke to him to fill the silence. He was terrified that one day, he wouldn't be able to remember. Wouldn't know what Aziraphale would say back.

And each time it gets longer and longer before someone stops by and gets their jollies off poking fun at him, and he worries that they're just going to leave him here, that they're never going to come back, and he doesn't like it when they're here, oh, but it's worse when they're gone.

And he doesn't want to cry, but what does it matter? They want him to break for what he'd done, and they so he breaks. He's so tired of the cruel little snippets they dangle in front of him, gazing at him like he's some kind of freak, the demon who loves.

Time pass. He's never sure of time anymore, threw his watch at the barrier one day when he and Gabriel had been fighting, and watching it burn had been satisfying, but then he realized that he no longer had a way to keep track of the hours.

He wouldn't even know how much time went by if his feathers didn't molt on a regular schedule. But at least when they did, it gave him something to do. Singing feathers smelt terrible, but it was something. And sometimes he tore at his feathers, the ones he could reach, just to feel, to remind himself that he was real.

It was just him here, and the sound of silence. Loud, Bright, and entirely consuming. He never wants to look at this shade of white again. He feels naked in a way that clothes could never touch. Raw and empty, and he wishes so much that it was over, that someone would just end him and let him out of this hell.

<~>

Of course he notices when someone is suddenly there, the silence just feels different. Time to talk then. He sits up and glances over to see who it is this time.

He hopes it's Michael. She is the most interesting, always coming up with something clever that stabs him right through the heart and gives him something to think back on for weeks. Only it's not an archangel that's standing there. Just a regular angel. His angel.

Aziraphale looks so angry, and he has his flaming sword though this time there are symbols burning down the center of it. Crowley blinks at him in surprise. He looks the same, and yet so different.

"Is this some new trick of yours?” He frowns. "Well you've got it wrong." He pulls on a singed feather*, it was so itchy, almost molt again. "Aziraphale loves that jacket." He flops back down. "He'd never let it get to that state."

_(* This particular incident had happened weeks ago, he'd finally decided he was entirely too bored and miserable and decided to take a nap. Unfortunately his wing had twitched while he was asleep, grazing the barrier. Really, Crowley had been lucky the whole wing hadn't caught fire.)_

"Oh Dearest. You're more important than a jacket."

Crowley sits up. "That's just cruel." His eyes dart around looking for Gabriel or whoever was responsible.

Aziraphale makes a noise. "Oh, Anthony."

"No. NO. I refuse to participate in whatever new _THING_ you have going on. You hear me? This feels like some kind of shit you'd pull Gabriel and I'm not having it."

"I'd rather you didn't get his attention dear, or any of them."

Crowley looks at him with dead eyes. "You," he says plainly "are not real."

"Oh bugger this." And the sword smashes through the containment field like it was glass. Aziraphale keeps hacking, destroying it. And once he is past it, he turns to Crowley shackles, bringing the sword down and freeing him.

The chains hang down from his bony wrists, the ends still glowing, but Crowley doesn't even pull his hands away from where the burning metal eats at his clothes and skin.

"You're not real." Crowley insists. "None of this is happening."

Aziraphale looks pained. "How dare they?" He pulls back his sword. "Listen to me Crowley. I've been trying to find a way to get to you for a very long time. 50 years to be exact. Poor Anathema was particularly upset. Apparently her and her husband burned the papers Agnes sent. But we figured it out."

"No you didn't. Because this. Isn't. Happening." He turns around in circles, "I'm not playing along with this farce, Stop it."

"It's not a farce. We're going home. Come on."

"Oh, is that the plan? Just have me walk into burning willing? Tired of dealing with me finally?"

"The barrier is gone. It's safe here, see?" Aziraphale waves his hands through the space where the circle wall used to be.

"Well of course you're safe. You're an angel.” He pauses, “And a delusion." He crosses his arms. “And I'm not arguing with you, because you're not real.”

"Just give your hand dear." He motions Crowley along. “Please, we really do need to go.”

And he momentarily gives in. "Alright, fine. I'll play along with this because I'm bored. So we go through the circle and no one dies and then what? We fight our way through Heaven and what, go back to London?"

"Actually, I live in Edinburgh now."

"Edinburgh. Lovely place. I'm sure it's dreadful."

"Rather, yes. Anyplace without you is."

Crowley studies him without answering.

"I'm so sorry it took me so long Dear. It took me ages to get to you. I'm quite sure I'm not on Heaven's side any more, even if wanted to be. I got my daughter involved."

"Your daughter?" His mind latches onto that. “Since when do you have a daughter?”

"Flaming sword and all that, it's a long story. I'm afraid we don't have time to get into it all right now. Well Heaven wanted a war, so I gave them one. Now come on Dearest. Out of the circle."

"No, you're being absurd. None of that sounds like Aziraphale."

"Times change, and you were trapped here in heaven. I had to do something." He adjusts his grip on the sword. “So I took a page out of your book. The world is pretty much in flames already. And I don't know who will win this one, the humans or the angels. But I wasn't leaving you here for a second longer.”

“He wouldn't. You wouldn't.” He insists, not moving. “Absolutely not.”

“We're going around in circles dear. I could show yourself if you'd let me. I'm afraid Earth really isn't an option for much longer, but I can show you what's become of it. I'm afraid I've made quite the mess for Adam and his friends, You just have to come with me and see.” Aziraphale extends his hand again.

Crowley stares at it for a few minutes, trying to think, to figure out what's really going on.

“If this is just a delusion, why not play along?” Aziraphale finally says when it looks like Crowley won't move. And Oh, how his heart aches at that. What have they done to his beautiful boy? His Crowley, so firmly adamant that Aziraphale wasn't here, that he wouldn't be saved; that there was no way Aziraphale would choose him.

“Well this has certainly been a very interesting way to pass the time, rather better than some of the stuff you lot have come up with. I'll commend you for that. But that's not Aziraphale. Heaven comes first to him, I know that.” He glances away looking again for whatever archangel is responsible for this display.

“Oh bollocks, I'm sorry my dear, we've really got to go.” Aziraphale grabs his arm and pulls him out of the circle.

And Crowley stares at the circle and himself, wondering if he's really still in there, and all of this is just a trick in his mind.

“Anthony. Are you listening to me, we need to go.”

He shakes his head _No,_ then says. “Go where?”

 


	3. Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is back on earth, and Aziraphale has a war to plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So um. I kind of wrote most of this fic three weeks ago, and then I had brain surgery and kind of forgot. So thanks for being patient?

So that's it then. There's a war. Humans against Heaven, though perhaps Hell is involved now too. Crowley doesn't care. He doesn't care about any of it. Most of the fighting isn't on this front anyways, but things are so different now here on Earth.

Orange is back in, it feels like he's in the 60's again. The constant feeling of dread hangs over colorful décor. The lingo has changed. His angel has changed. Everything is wrong. His skin itches; his wings, while it's oh it's so nice to stretch them out fully, they're ragged.

He changes form often, just because he can. Human form had been his favorite before this, but now it feels like a prison sometimes. And he sleeps on something other than the cold tile floor that has been his cell for the last 50 years. Sleep means nightmares, but it also means Aziraphale there to hold him.

He doesn't fit here. But it feels right, Aziraphale makes him feel right. He clings to Aziraphale, not just physically. He needs him, all of him. He cries, bleeds and screams, and Aziraphale is there to pick up the pieces he's shattered himself into. The facade he's pulled around him falls into so many pieces and he isn't sure how to find himself among the rubble. 

Time passes by him, but at least now he's aware of it, though he's not sure how to interact with it anymore. He talks at Aziraphale and can't stop jumping in surprise when Aziraphale answers. He keeps clocks that tick extra loud so that he can hear every second. His hands shake whenever it gets too quiet and he absolutely panics when he feels something on his wrists.

But now there are sounds. Aziraphale always has classical music playing, or the telly on low, and when the power goes out, he reads by the light of a lantern so that Crowley won't have to hear the silence. And they're never apart, but he is broken. He's a shell that clings to Aziraphale filled with doubts and hurts.

His wings heal, his body heals from where he smashes himself on the ground when it get too much. He's tired. Aziraphale burned down heaven, turned his back on it to save Crowley, and that should be enough for him.

But sometimes when he wakes up, he finds himself in the coat closet, unsure of how he got there, breathing too fast and too hard, and puts his hands on the walls to reassure himself that he's not in that big, bright, barren place anymore.

He shifts into his serpentine form, to reassure himself that he can, and all the while a thought lingers in his mind that none of this is real, it's all just some new form of torture of Gabriel's and he begs Aziraphale to just please, keep talking, to let this be real.

During one of these odd spells, Aziraphale says soothingly, “Anathema, she really was quite vital to getting you out of there. It was her spells that she put on the sword that let me break the circle. I'm going to visit her, later. She's awful old now. Won't you come?”

Crowley shakes his head, refusing to move. “Tell her good on her for the sword.” He finally manages. And he wants to hate her- how dare she have burned those papers, but she was the reason he was out now.

He knows Aziraphale worries about him, but he can't seem to stop whatever he is doing. He doesn't know how to be the old him anymore. He doesn't know how to be the Crowley that Aziraphale is in love with, and that scares him. He needs Aziraphale so much, but he also knows he's not what Aziraphale needs.

Hell had been to crowded, too dark, heaven had been too bright and open. And both of them had left scars on his mind, but heaven's was fresher and he just needed to feel the walls and know he could block out the light.

“Go on then. Visit the witch. See how the war fares. I'm alright now.” His voice is still shaky, but he doesn't feel like he's fading away again. He just needs to be in the dark for a while, and he doesn't know how to react to Anathema and Newt, or their three grand-kids.

<~>

Time keeps passing. The witches fight for them. There is magic and spells and technology. Crowley should be amazed at how far they've come, but he feels so disconnected. The parts inside him don't know how to work together anymore.

When he sees smoke and fire, he just watches it burn, but the smell, it makes him sick. He cries and empties his stomach. And he doesn't want to feel because he doesn't want this to affect him anymore, and then he feels guilty for wishing he didn't feel, and knowing that it would hurt Aziraphale.

He doesn't water plants anymore. He doesn't do much of anything. He closes his eyes and hides under sheets, torn between wrapping his wings around himself and spreading them out as far as they'll go. Zira understands. He holds him and lets Crowley spread out as much as he needs.

Pain. Guilt. Shame. Those are familiar emotions he starts out with. Aziraphale tries to show him how to be soft, but he's too dry and brittle. Heaven burned out softness long ago. Anger comes after the shame. And he yells and yells. He screams himself hoarse and coughs up blood.

He breaks things, just because it makes him feel something. And yells at ghosts of memories. He gets furiously mad and afterwards, he feels the anger drain away until all that is left is sadness.

He mourns for the person he used to be. Can't stop crying. At least he is feeling something, though he doesn't know how to keep these emotions to himself. They always spill out onto Aziraphale. And Aziraphale just keeps holding him.

And Aziraphale is tired. Crowley can see it in the weary lines on his face. He traces those lines and knows that he is the reason for them. Knows that Heaven broke a demon, but he was hurting his angel. He apologizes, often, but Aziraphale just looks sadder each time and kisses his fingertips, so he stops.

Aziraphale plans destruction, and handles Crowley so tenderly. And Aziraphale doesn't tell Crowley details, because Crowley doesn't want to hear them. And Crowley is still so bad at meaningful talking, but he'll reach for Aziraphale's hand and squeeze it.

He learns other ways to speak. He makes hot coco when Aziraphale looks worn out. He puts on Zira's favorite record and taps the freckles on Aziraphale's back in time with the tune. He lays his head on Aziraphale's shoulder instead of hiding behind him. He fixes Aziraphale's bow tie to make sure it's straight when they head out. He learns how to put the pieces back together for himself. Or at least tries to.

The war gets closer to them. Wheels Aziraphale set in motion. The horsemen ride, only now they ride for Aziraphale, for his Angel is a general. His Angel is angry and dangerous, and all the things a demon should have been but wasn't. And Crowley wants to apologize for this too, that Aziraphale had been forced into this state, but he knows Zira won't want to hear it- that it'd break his heart, so he doesn't speak it aloud, just holds him tighter.

Aziraphale shows him he's not leaving him again, not like that. He's not alone. Aziraphale holds his forehead each night and kisses it, and softly says “This is real. You're safe.” And they do the whole intimate thing all backwards. But they've been courting for 6,000 years, fought everything they believed in, and the price was his sanity. It's a small cost.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of glossed over the war, because the focus is on Crowley and Aziraphale, and I did a lot of rearranging certain scenes before I was happy with the flow, but considering this was written in a pre brain surgery rush/post brain surgery medicated stage, I hope it doesn't need too much editing.


	4. In the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UM.

“It's all going to burn.” Aziraphale says to him one day when he comes back from yet another council. “She spoke life into existence with a command, that's all it'll take to undo it.” His face looks drawn. “What do you say we at least check out the views before it all comes crashing down into a puddle of goo?”

And they've ruined this for him too. He knows what Aziraphale means, what he's offering. He wants to go with his angel. He wants to play in the stars and nebulae again. But all that space, it's just so quiet. The would be no melody to distract him, just the void of endless silence. He doesn't know if he can bear that.

“That stuff, it's not for me anymore.” Crowley says and burrows against Aziraphale's chest.

Aziraphale pats his head softly. “Well, then dear. We'll stay here. It won't be pleasant.”

“Never is. But dying is easy. Humans do it all the time. I always wanted to die. What do you suppose happens to celestials?”

“I rather think we turn into nothing. She never planned for this.”

“She must have known. We're just not important enough.”

Aziraphale just watches him. The weight of 75 years of hurt and centuries of lifetimes hangs between them. “Well then Dear, we shall go to non existence.”

“You knew," Crowley realizes. "Knew there was no way of winning this war.”

“Yes. But at least we'd be together in the end. That was all I wanted.”

“Bugger it all. When she destroys it, we'll be right here, like we've always been. With our humans, and the planet we care so much about.”

“And each other.”

“To the end of the world.”

Aziraphale takes his hand and squeezes it. “To the end of the world.”

<~>

And suddenly they're back on that street in London 75 years ago and Crowley can't breathe under the weight of it. He rips his shades off and just clutches at his head falling to his knees. _Nononono_. The ground bucks underneath them, and glass flies as all the windows in the area shatter. Destruction rages out from him.

Crowley lets out an inhuman screech, it was just like he'd been fearing that none of it was _Real,_ but he'd been focusing on the wrong event. He rages, all the hurt spilling out.

Aziraphale doesn't think it's on purpose, the demon is just so _angry_ and things react to him. Crowley bursts with hellfire, a crazy look to his eyes as he slinks to his feet. And Aziraphale doesn't ever think that he's ever seen Crowley this angry. Not ever.

"So you two would go that far?” Gabriel looks at the destruction spreading out from Crowley.

"Oh Gabe. I would burn everything down again, destroy the whole universe for him, God's plans be dammed." He stalks forward, but Aziraphale reaches out and grabs his arm, like the hellfire isn't even burning him, like his hands aren't important.

And Crowley tries to reign it in, he's hurting his angel. To turn his rage into a cool pinprick of anger. He isn't sure he is successful, but at least he's no longer on fire.

"We both would. We just want to be left alone. Like Crowley said, Heaven and Hell can burn." And Aziraphale doesn't have his flaming sword, but he looks _Fierce_ nonetheless. He has knowledge and experience from years that never happened, and a grim determination to his voice.

"75 years Gabe, mate, in just 75 years we brought it all crashing down." And Crowley laughs, only there's an edge to it now. "And we'll do it again. No shackles or mind games this time, just the two of us being really fucking irritating."

Aziraphale squeezes his arm. "Is hurting us worth _that_?"

"No, it's really not."

"Then you leave Aziraphale and I alone. No tricks, none of your being, well you, and we'll not show up on Heaven's doorstep with all of Humanity bringing you the war you wanted so much."

"Fine."

Crowley puts his shades back on, trying to hold onto the pieces of himself. He no longer knows what parts of himself are anchored in reality, and what's a dream, but Aziraphale laces their fingers and holds onto his hand, and Crowley will do anything to protect his angel.

“You know if you you stay, the two of you can never go home again.”

“Oh no.” Crowley says dramatically. “What a threat." He shouts "Neither of us care! You saw it for yourself, we tore this universe apart. And Hell was more merciful than your Heaven ever was.” Crowley shakes his head. “You even think of doing anything to him, and you'll burn first.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“It's not a threat. It's a promise. Now go. Crawl back up to Heaven with your tail between your legs and admit how much you really fucked this up.” Crowley bares his teeth in another crazy smile.

Gabriel wants to say something, he does, never one to let the demon have the last word, but he knows he can't win this. He looks at the two of them with spite and Aziraphale wiggles his fingers in a wave. And then he's gone.

Crowley drops to his knees again, suddenly exhausted, and everything just stops. It's almost unnerving how quiet it is. His ears are ringing, and his vision is going black, and he can't breathe, or maybe he's breathing too much, too fast.

“Oh Dear.” Aziraphale touches Crowley's face. “You're okay.”

“Aziraphale.” He looks up. “Aziraphale.”

“I'm right here Crowley, we're okay.”

“Fuck him. Fuck this.” Crowley growls. “You would have really destroyed it all? For me?”

“Yes.” Is all he says back and rests his hands on Crowley's shoulders. “And I'd do it again. I don't care if none of that was real, I'd find a way. I would tear Heaven and Hell apart, sacrifice Humanity for real if that's what it took.”

Crowley lets out a little pained noise.

“Come on. Lets get out of the street. Oh, they'll probably say it was an earthquake. London's got a fault line under it.” He helps Crowley to his feet. “Lets have some tea.”

“That's very British of you.” Crowley says. “Tell Heaven off, then go make some tea.”

“Well it is a rather soothing ritual, if you ask me.” He frowns. “You're in no state to drive, and you've got to be exhausted after doing all that.” And then they're back at the bookshop, in the cozy back room. Aziraphale throws himself into one of the chairs after herding Crowley into the other with a thick blanket around his thin shoulders.

And they'll have to talk about this. They both have scars from wounds that were never really there in the first place. There's so much between them, and neither one of them are quite sure what is real anymore and what isn't. It's the first time, and yet it isn't. They've done so much, and they're both so tired.

Crowley wants to scream, because he'd just been starting to accept his new reality, and then it changed on him, and he's not sure he can do this again. Instead he holds his hand out, needing to feel Aziraphale and closes his eyes when Aziraphale takes his hand. They've figured out how to do this before. They'll do it again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone please give them a break
> 
> On a side note, my surgery was June 27th, and it went really, really well. Recovering from the general anesthesia was a trip, and I have pictures from when I was high out out of my mind insisting that the "one brain cell" I had after brain surgery was named Aziraphale and the rest were Crowley.


End file.
